


Toys Reborn

by khilari



Category: Toy Story (Movies)
Genre: Incomplete, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-06
Packaged: 2018-04-25 01:59:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4942294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khilari/pseuds/khilari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When saving another toy lands Woody in trouble again Buzz and Jessie set out to rescue him.</p>
<p>Note: This is incomplete and may not be finished. I'm uploading it here on request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toys Reborn

‘Bonnie! Time to go home,’ Bonnie’s mother calls and Bonnie sets off at a jog across the playground, pack bouncing on her back and shaking the toys curled inside it. Woody, Buzz and Jessie are thrown together at the bottom, leaning together companionably, while the peas, still excited by this rare trip out of the house, are perched at the opening watching the playground appear in flashes as the loose cover flaps back and forth. Their empty pod catches on Jessie’s foot as the pack bounces and she flicks it off, earning a scowl from Woody as she nearly kicks him. The sound of children calling and laughing nearby mingles with the creak of the swings and seesaw and the clang of sneakers on metal bars. It’s been a good afternoon, they’ve saved the playground three times and had a tea party with another girl and some Barbie dolls.

Bonnie’s foot catches on something and, although she rights herself before falling, the sudden jounce knocks Peanelope loose, sending her hurtling from the backpack. Jessie snatches at her with both hands, only for the pea to fall away in front of her leaving her staring down dismayed while, beside her, Peatey starts to sniffle. Suddenly Woody pushes past her, wriggling out of the backpack and dropping to the ground. He lands on his feet, arms whirling for balance, and looks around frantically for Peanelope. When she bounces up to him he snatches her up and throws her overarm at the still moving backpack, this time Jessie’s hands close safely around the pea and pull her in to safety.

Woody grins at Jessie, pleased with himself for the rescue, and starts to chase after them. For a moment it seems as if everything will be okay, but the sudden appearance of a group of children heading into the park causes him to go limp, flopping to the ground in front of Jessie’s dismayed eyes. Small sneakered feet kick him into the bushes without even noticing he’s there. Then Bonnie’s in the car park and soon the backpack is thrown into Bonnie’s mother’s car.

‘Check the backpack, please check the backpack,’ Jessie mouths silently. Buzz squeezes her shoulder, his own eyes as anxious as hers. But the engine starts and the car pulls out without anyone noticing there’s a toy missing. Jessie covers her face with her hands, instinctively hiding tears that aren’t really there.

‘He’ll be fine,’ whispers Buzz. ‘Woody’s been lost before. He’ll know what to do.’

But they’re so vulnerable. With the amount of children in the playground Woody won’t even be able to move. All it takes is for one of them to decide to take him home. Or worse, decide to amuse themselves by breaking a toy they didn’t have to spend money on. The peas are huddled up together in their pod, worried about the trouble they’ve caused. Jessie glares at them and they hastily zip themselves away.

‘What if he ain’t?’ Jessie asks. Buzz hesitates then shyly pulls her close, she drops her head to rest on his shoulder taking comfort in how solid he is against her.

‘He will be,’ Buzz answers firmly. ‘I’m certain of it.’

*

Woody groans and pulls himself into a sitting position. He’s managed to crawl far enough into the bushes that he should be out of sight if he doesn’t move much. He’s lost his hat. Again. And he’s lost his owner. Also again. Ten years ago he would have been panicking about now, but he just feels old. Okay, he needs a plan. Bonnie’s bound to realise the park is the last place she had him and she’ll come back to look for him. Of course she will. So he needs to be somewhere conspicuous when she turns up, but not so conspicuous someone else picks him up in the meantime. Maybe he should head for the car park? There’ll be less kids around there for the most part, and he’ll be able to keep an eye out for Bonnie arriving.

He sets out for the car park on hands and knees, pushing branches out of the way as quietly as possible. A few times he has to go back and unhook his pullstring before it can give him away. Freezing every time footsteps get too close, constantly keeping an ear out, makes the journey seem to take forever. Soil is ingraining itself into his knees. Just great, he’s going to need washing when all this is over and he hates the way getting his stuffing soggy feels.

There! The car park, but he can’t see all of it from here. There’s a flowerbed in the middle, dividing two lines of parking spaces. If he can just reach that he’ll have the perfect vantage point. Even if Bonnie doesn’t see him he can climb into her car and he’ll be home in no time. Woody crouches at the edge of the flowerbed, eyes darting back and forth. No people, all the cars are parked. Okay. On three. One, two -

Something grabs Woody from behind, something huge, wet and crushingly powerful. The sound of an inquiring human voice causes him to go limp instead of screaming as the German Shepherd bounds across the car park with him in its mouth.

‘What have you got there, boy? An old toy?’

A muffled bark and Woody finds himself tossed into the air, only to be caught in the dog’s mouth again and shaken.

‘Well, we can’t play with it here. Wait ‘til we’re in the dog park. Now, heel.’

The dog falls into place behind its master, trotting along happily with Woody held tightly in its jaws.

Woody does his best to fall unconscious during the ensuing playtime. It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to him (the incinerator tops, followed by Sid trying to burn a hole in his head) but it’s far from pleasant. It’s not so much being thrown around and shaken, he’s a rag doll and that’s what he’s made for, as the knowledge that neither the man nor the dog care if they break him in the process. And there’s nothing at all he can do except endure.

A smaller dog, a terrier, runs over. It seems as if the dogs know each other, their owners must because Woody can hear them chatting in the background, and the German Shepherd drops Woody into the grass as he greets his friend. _Please, please, let them forget about me,_ Woody thinks, but luck hasn’t been with him so far today and it’s not about to cut him a break now. The terrier grabs him by one leg, running off with its tail held high and Woody dangling from its mouth. The German Shepherd chases after it, closing its jaws around Woody’s body and trying to take him back. It turns into a friendly tug of war between the dogs, with Woody caught in the middle and feeling his stitching start to go. The humans aren’t looking, he risks giving the terrier a kick on the nose, but terriers are notoriously stubborn and it just growls and pulls harder.

Pain runs up the inside of Woody’s left leg like a line of fire as the stitches pull out with a chorus of soft pops. The pain numbs immediately afterwards, it’s breaking that hurts not being broken. But the dogs just keep pulling, sending little jabs of pain as the seam pulls further and further and stuffing starts to spill out. Finally, mercifully, their owners call them back over and Woody is dropped into the grass. Abandoned in favour of a ball, and then left altogether as the two dogs and their owners wander back towards the car park.

Once they’re gone Woody sits up and curls forward, arms wrapped tightly around his middle and gasping for breath. He doesn’t even want to see how badly he’s hurt, afraid of what he’ll find. He can’t walk, Bonnie won’t find him here, anyone who does find him will drop him in the nearest trashcan. Then it will be a one way trip back to the incinerator and the others won’t even know what happened to him.

‘This is no time to panic,’ he says aloud, imagining it in Buzz’s Space Ranger voice, the one he uses when he’s being especially confident or determined. Too bad Buzz isn’t here, Woody hates to admit it but he could really use rescuing about now. ‘Okay, time to see how bad it is.’

It’s bad. He’s not actually missing a limb this time, but his left leg is now a shapeless tube of cloth with its stuffing scattered over the dog park. Woody presses his hand against his forehead and forces himself to think. He can’t walk but he can still crawl. The car park can’t be that far and if he can make it there then Bonnie will find him.

Woody nearly makes it. Along the way he finds a stick, probably thrown for a dog earlier, that he uses as a crutch, allowing him to limp rather than crawl, but car headlights too nearby make him drop on the edge of the car park. He dares to raise his head a little, squinting against the light in hope of seeing Bonnie. But it’s not her and it’s not her mother, it’s another woman Woody doesn’t know and he goes properly limp. But as she gets out of the car she catches sight of his still form. A hand closes around him, surprisingly gentle for someone picking up a dirty and broken toy.

‘Poor thing,’ the woman murmurs. Then he’s dropped into a plastic bag. What’s happening? Is he trash? But she didn’t look as if she was going to throw him away, she looked almost tender. Woody scrabbles at the inside of the bag, but he can’t break the plastic. When the woman looks into the bag with a frown, trying to work out why she felt something moving in there, Woody realises he can’t escape. Exhausted and hopeless he slumps to the bottom of the bag and falls into an unwilling sleep.

*

Bonnie drops the backpack on her bedroom floor. ‘We’re back from the space station,’ she announces. ‘Oh no! Invisible aliens have followed us! Quick, Buzz, use your laser.’

She pulls Buzz from the backpack and swings him towards the open door, pressing his laser as she does so. ‘That should hold them. Jessie, get the peas to safety. Sheriff, we need a plan!’

Bonnie is tugging them out of the backpack as she talks and the game grinds to a premature halt as her groping fingers fail to find the cowboy. Buzz finds himself dropped beside Jessie as Bonnie practically turns the backpack inside out.

‘Woody!’ she calls, looking around the room to check she didn’t pull him out with Buzz. She runs from the room, calling for her mother as her feet thud down the stairs. Buzz sits up and the next thing he knows he’s surrounded by toys.

‘Where’s Woody?’ asks Slinky.

‘Is he lost?’ asks Rex.

‘Yes, he’s lost!’ says Jessie, jumping to her feet and pointing furiously at the emerging peas. ‘And it’s those stupid little varmints’ fault!’ The peas take one look at her and run to hide quivering behind Mrs. Potatohead.

‘Calm down, Jessie,’ says Buzz standing up and motioning everyone to quiet down. ‘Blaming the peas isn’t going to help us here.’

‘Well, what is?’ she asks.

‘We need to find Woody,’ says Slink. ‘We’ve done it before.’

‘What happened?’ asks Dolly. ‘It’s not like Bonnie to forget a toy.’

‘She didn’t forget him,’ says Buzz. He looks around at the gathered toys, no need to call a meeting when they’re all here already. ‘Peanelope fell from the backpack and Woody climbed out to rescue her. Unfortunately he was unable to rejoin us before the vehicle left the scene. At this point a rescue operation would be premature, there is every chance Bonnie can perform a search and rescue without our assistance.’

‘Bonnie’s coming!’ Hamm calls from where he’s stationed himself by the door and there’s the usual scramble for places before Bonnie and her mother come in.

The room is turned upside down as they check for Woody before finally deciding they’ll have to go back to the park. ‘We’ll go back after dinner,’ says Bonnie’s mother. ‘Okay?’

Bonnie nods and when her mother goes back downstairs to check on dinner she sits down on the floor instead of returning to her game. She looks around, then scoops Buzz up and hugs him before sitting him down across from her and regarding him solemnly.

‘Are you mad at me?’ she asks, and Buzz wishes he could break the rules enough to tell her that it’s not her fault at all. ‘I lost your best friend. And I promised Andy I’d take care of him.’ She sniffles and wipes the back of her hand across her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, okay. I’ll find him.’ She puts Buzz on the bed and then picks up Jessie and puts her next to him. ‘I’m going downstairs now.’

‘She said she’s going to find him!’ says Rex, jumping up. ‘That means it’s okay now, right?’

Potatohead and Hamm look at each other and shake their heads.

The toys spend most of the evening perched on the windowsill watching out for Bonnie’s return. Buzz started by preparing a watch rota but in practice nobody wants to be anywhere else so they all stand there watching and hoping together.

When the car arrives there’s a general rush to see and everyone wishes they still had Lenny. But Bonnie’s drooping posture is enough to tell everyone the bad news. They dash to their places as Bonnie’s footsteps drag up the stairs and then she pushes the door open. She’s been crying and she’s holding Woody’s hat in one hand. Buzz is picked up and set in his normal place on the bedside table where he does duty as a nightlight. Then, to his surprise, Bonnie places the hat in his lap before going to the bathroom to brush her teeth before bed. Jessie gazes at the hat with wide miserable eyes from the bed, while the others gather around on the floor below.

The tension is broken when Hamm snorts. ‘Big deal. Woody’s lost his hat again. Doesn’t mean he’s not all right.’

‘Exactly,’ says Buzz with more confidence than he feels. ‘Staff meeting tomorrow. No matter where he is we’ll find a way to bring him home.’

*

Woody wakes still in the bag, in the dark and with a mouth full of fur. There are a number of things pressing down on him, more bulky than heavy, probably plush toys, and Woody shifts his one good leg under him and tries to push his way up to get some air.

‘Hey, quit pushing down there,’ the voice is deep, sleepy and irritated.

‘Sorry,’ says Woody, sliding back down. ‘Do you know where we are?’

‘In a bag.’

‘I figured that out, thanks.’

Someone else starts pushing, shifting someone’s furry behind into Woody’s face and making him cough.

‘I said to _knock that off_ ,’ snaps the irritable voice.

‘It’s not me this time,’ he snaps back at it. ‘Hey! How many people are in here?’

‘OW! By dose,’ says another voice, a female one this time. ‘That was _my nose_ ,’ she repeats more clearly.

Then the entire bag tips over and they’re spilling across the floor. They are in a small hallway, tucked into an alcove under a flight of stairs. The rickety table they have just spilled off takes up most of it while toys, eight at a quick headcount, are groaning and picking themselves up. Woody’s the only one of them that isn’t a plush toy. The large blue frog grumbling and picking itself up seems to be the source of the first voice, while the pink elephant with one ear may well be the source of the second. Three teddy bears in various sizes and states of disrepair have gravitated towards each other and are holding a quiet yet panicky conversation under the table. A beanbag mouse made of floral fabric and spilling split peas hasn’t even bothered to pick herself up from where she’s lying half twisted over on herself while a TY beanie baby ox is trying to help her. The last toy in the headcount is a little white rabbit with no ears alternating between running in panicked circles and freezing on the spot and panting. Woody snags it as it tries to run past him and puts his hands on its shoulders.

‘Calm down,’ he says, trying to say it loudly and clearly in case that will help.

‘I can’t hear you,’ says the rabbit, in a small voice. ‘I can’t hear you. I can’t hear anything. I don’t know where I am.’

The door swings open and everyone freezes before they see that the head poking around the door at about the height of the door handle belongs to a toy. The toy walks in, a stork designed as a glove puppet with a neck someone’s arm can fit down. His head ends in an orange plastic beak which can open and close, his neck sags a little as he walks, as do his long felt legs which seem constantly on the verge of tripping each other up, and his body is only a little bigger than his head with tiny little wings flopping from the sides. He steps through the door and catches the door handle in his beak, pulling it open after him.

Through the door steps a doll, she looks as though she’s meant to be about ten years old although in real years she’s almost certainly older than Woody. Her face and hands are porcelain although the way she moves suggests her body is soft. She’s wearing a nurse’s outfit, complete with a little cap over her long blonde curls.

‘Thank you, Jeremy,’ she says in a little girl’s voice. She turns to the other toys and takes a deep breath. ‘Hello and welcome to Toys Reborn, a place dedicated to the rescue, repair and restoration of broken or abandoned toys. I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you earlier. My name is Clara and this is Jeremy, we’re the permenant residents and will do everything we can to make your stay comfortable. If you have any questions then please ask them now.’

‘We’re being repaired?’ asks the smallest Teddy bear.

‘Yes. When Sheila has finished with you you’ll be as good as new,’ says Clara.

‘Can we get that in writing? I think this fellow would find it reassuring,’ says Woody, indicating the rabbit which is still shaking and glancing wildly around.

‘Oh, of course.’ Clara puts her hands to her mouth. ‘Jeremy, fetch a paper and pencil, please.’

Jeremy disappears back around the door. The blue frog takes the opportunity to ask, ‘What happens to us once we’re fixed?’

‘You’ll be sold on to new owners who will be delighted to have you,’ says Clara.

Woody tries to jump up and only succeeds in falling over. ‘ _Sold?_ I can’t be sold, I _have_ an owner!’

‘The price of sale covers the cost of mending you,’ says Clara primly. Jeremy pokes his head back around the door and Clara takes the paper and pencil he’s holding in his beak.

‘Look, I didn’t ask your owner to pick me up,’ says Woody. ‘If she’d left me where I was I’d be home by now.’

‘Andy,’ says the little teddy bear suddenly, making Woody look around. ‘Is that your owner?’ The bear is looking at the sole of his boot Woody’s realises, and he draws his leg up to his chest to hide it against the floor.

‘No, that was my last owner,’ he says looking down at the carpet. ‘He’s in college now.’

‘If you’ve changed owners before then what are you making such a fuss about?’ asks the blue frog.

‘Because it’s different! Andy was growing up, I can’t leave a child who still wants me. Besides, my friends will worry.’ Buzz is probably putting a rescue mission together right now, please let them not try to go all the way to the park after him.

‘I notice your new owner didn’t label you,’ says the middle sized bear.

‘Speaking for myself,’ says the elephant. ‘I’m glad not to be outside in the rain anymore. My owner never came back for me. I’m just grateful to have a fresh start instead of rotting.’

Clara looks up from the note she’s writing and smiles, there are nods all around from the other toys. Woody folds his arms sulkily. ‘Bonnie _would_ have come back,’ he says. ‘And once I’m fixed I’m leaving.’

Clara walks over to the rabbit and holds up a shakily written note. It says: YOU ARE HERE TO BE FIXED. DO NOT WORRY. She looks at Woody while the rabbit reads it. ‘I think you’re being ungrateful,’ she says. ‘But I can’t stop you from leaving.’

*

The next day is Sunday and Bonnie stays inside to play with them all. It’s clear she still misses Woody and her imagination runs less wild than usual. Between that and the toys’ own anxiety what would normally have been a treat becomes something of a chore with glances and whispers constantly being exchanged behind Bonnie’s back. Buzz keeps having to quiet people down with stern looks, are they really so worried they can nearly break the rules by accident? Yes, they are.

Buzz can hardly bear to look at Jessie, every time Bonnie’s eyes are off her her expression melts into heartbreak and Buzz can’t face such a clear reflection of his own feelings. Finally, it seems, it is lunchtime and Bonnie’s parents decide to take her out for lunch to cheer her up. For once Bonnie doesn’t ask to take a toy. The instant the humans are out the door the toys are gathering around Buzz, smaller toys at the front, arranging themselves for a staff meeting with no prompting needed.

Buzz clears his throat. ‘All right. I think we all know the situation. Woody has been lost at the play park and it is our duty as his friends to bring him home. Does anyone have any suggestions?’

‘Won’t he try to get home by himself?’ asks Rex, twiddling his claws together and clearly hoping to be spared a dangerous rescue mission.

‘That could be easier said than done. The play park’s blocks away,’ says Hamm.

‘Does anyone know how far it is?’ asks Buzz. When no one answers he turns to Trixie. ‘Call up a map.’

Trixie does her best at a salute and heads for the computer. Buzz turns back to the others while the machine powers up. ‘If he could he would have tried to be found by Bonnie rather than crossing several streets to return to us by himself.’

‘You think he’s hurt?’ says Slink, he and Bullseye are standing together with Jessie on Bullseye’s other side. All three of them look at Buzz, eyes begging him to deny it.

‘It’s possible,’ says Buzz, starting to pace. ‘He would have expected Bonnie to return for him. If he couldn’t make it to the carpark then either he’s hurt or he was in a situation where moving would be impossible.’

‘Someone could’a picked him up,’ Jessie says grimly, realising what he means. They all know it’s a worst case scenario, less distressing than Woody being hurt but in some ways more hopeless. If someone’s taken him home with them then they have no way of knowing where he is.

‘I’ve found the map,’ calls Trixie, and Buzz heads for the computer with the other toys trailing him like the tail of a comet. The play park really is blocks away, even going as fast as they could travel it would take more than a day for them to get there with the chances of finding Woody still there getting smaller all the while.

‘Are you guys sure about this?’ asks Dolly.

‘Woody came back to Sunnyside for us,’ says Buzz. ‘We can’t do less when he’s the one in danger.’

*

Woody’s morning is spent in a plastic bathtub filled with warm soapy water. It’s actually quite pleasant, although he knows he’ll feel horrible when he’s taken out. Too heavy and unpleasantly squishy. Sheila is working on other toys across the room from them, long dark hair tied back in a scruffy ponytail. With her so close they can’t talk but she’s far enough away from them to move. The smallest teddy bear, the beanie baby ox and the earless rabbit, now much more relaxed, are having a waterfight. The blue frog is completely submerged and snoozing on the bottom of the tub, only waking to swat away any toy that drifts too close. Most of the toys are taking the opportunity to relax, the exception is the beanbag mouse who has been completely empied of split peas. Her empty skin drifts around the bottom of the tub, Woody’s sure she’ll be fine and all the better for it later but he still keeps his eyes away from it. He just hopes she’s not still conscious.

Woody’s eyes drift closed and he wonders how Buzz and Jessie are, imagined scenarios of them trying to reach the park make him frown. Buzz is too heavy to be used as a dog toy at least, but Jessie’s as vulnerable as he is. Buzz has more parts to lose, though, if someone does get rough with him and he can’t be fixed with a needle and thread. A faceful of water interrupts his thoughts and he opens his eyes, trying to splutter quietly, to find the rabbit watching him with a mischievous grin. Woody turns to it, a wicked look in his eyes, and then pushes off the side of the bath with his good leg, grabbing the rabbit and trying to duck it. Next the ox tries to get him from behind and he’s soon too involved in the waterfight to worry about things he can’t change.

When she’s finished the batch of toys Sheila looks up, brushing a few escaped strands of hair back from her face and stretching. The toys in the tub go still as she comes over to lift them out, but on the shelf where she’s left the mended ones they’re moving about, stretching kinks out of newly stitched seams and admiring her handiwork. Woody can see how happy they are, relief at being whole again and something a child might love showing in stitched smiles and bright glass eyes. This is a good place, toys are saved here, and he wonders whether it is unfair of him to accept this care without expecting to give anything in return. _I didn’t ask her to pick me up,_ he repeats to himself. It doesn’t make him feel any better.

Sheila scoops the toys out of the bathtub one by one and wrings them out gently before pegging them to a clothesline which runs over the bath. When she’s holding Woody she pauses, frowning at him as if she’s trying to remember something. It makes Woody want to squirm under her gaze, the attention feels like a threat when he’s hoping to quietly disappear. But she pegs him to the clothesline alongside the others and he breaths an internal sigh of relief.

Sheila leaves them there while she goes for lunch, they talk to distract themselves from the pegs digging into their shoulders. Most of them talk about hopes for the future or about nothing much, TV shows they’ve seen or new toys they’ve seen advertised. None of them talk about their pasts. Woody, as the only one with an owner he expects to return to, finds himself gently ignored. No one is setting out to be cruel to him, but there’s a pervasive sense that he’s not part of the group.

After lunch Sheila takes away the mended toys from earlier and starts mending them. Woody’s leg is restuffed and sewn closed and then she runs a thoughtful finger over the red stitching in his shoulder, making a lump catch in his throat at the thought of having Andy’s clumsy sewing pulled out. Fortunately she leaves it, just giving his pullstring a tug to check it works and putting him on the shelf along with the others before turning to making new ears for the poor rabbit.

They’re all admiring their new stitching when she comes back carrying a black cloth and a digital camera and they hastily go still. Woody finds himself picked up and carried over to a table where a box is covered with the cloth as a backdrop and he’s placed in front of it for a photoshoot. Compared to the one Al had once subjected him to this is so simple as to be a little sad. Although it’s certainly more carefully done. Woody is posed a few different ways, has photos snapped and is placed back on the shelf where he was before. Once she leaves the other toys stare at him.

‘What was that about?’ asks the elephant.

‘How should I know?’ says Woody. He pushes himself to the edge of the shelf, judging the distance to the ground.

‘Where are you going?’ asks the rabbit.

‘Home,’ says Woody and when the rabbit’s ears twist different directions in surprise he pauses. ‘You didn’t know? No, of course you didn’t. I still have an owner and I need to get back to her.’

The beanbag mouse, now full of new split peas, chimes in, ‘You’re really going outside by yourself?’

‘Sure. I’ve done it before. I just need to find a map.’

Then the door opens again and Clara and Jeremy walk in. ‘Hello. How is everyone feeling today?’ asks Clara.

‘Do you have a map?’ Woody asks. It comes out sounding rude, too abrupt, because he expects her to say no and is gearing up for an argument.

Clara looks at him with an expression of patience that is rather grating. ‘If you don’t mind waiting you can use the computer. Sheila’s on it right now.’

Woody blinks and sits back. ‘Oh. Thank you.’

Clara simply ignores him and starts checking on the others.

*

That evening while Bonnie is having dinner Jessie sits by the computer with Trixie waiting for the map they found to print out. The journey to the play park is going to take too long however you look at it. If they disappear tonight then Bonnie might not notice their absence in the rush to get ready for daycare tomorrow but she will certainly notice if they aren’t there when she gets back. And with Woody already missing their absence is going to make her miserable. Jessie sighs, no help for it. The best they can do is not take many toys and hope to pass as simply misplaced.

All the same she wishes she was sure there was a point to this mission. Buzz doesn’t seem to have any doubts, but the more Jessie thinks about it the less likely finding Woody still in the park seems. It hurts inside her chest to admit it to herself but he could have been picked up by a kid or thrown away by a park keeper. Or what if someone like Al saw him and realised how valuable he could be? Jessie stops, reviews that thought, and turns to Trixie.

‘Trixie, could you get ebay for me?’

‘Sure thing,’ says Trixie brightly, typing away with two feet. ‘What should I search for?’

‘Sheriff Woody,’ says Jessie.

Two come up, one is mint in box and has a price tag of a couple of thousand dollars, the other…Jessie grabs the mouse two handed and slides it over to click the link. One sheriff Woody doll, hatless and in played with condition, currently selling for three-hundred-and-forty-five dollars. The first picture - is that red stitching around the top of his arm? Jessie holds her breath as she scrolls down, only for the second picture to clearly show the word ‘Andy’ on the sole of one boot. And underneath the pictures is an address.

‘YEE-HAW!’ Jessie can no more stop herself yelling just now than she can fly.

‘Quiet down, could you? You just about knocked my ears out,’ says Mr. Potato Head.

‘Are you trying to attract attention? They’re only at dinner,’ adds Mr. Pricklepants.

Jessie jumps down from the table to stand in front of them, clutching her braid and then her hat in an effort to contain her excitement and keep herself from yelling the news instead of saying it. ‘Guys, Woody’s on ebay!’

Buzz looks up from the post-it notes he’s been writing on. ‘He is?’

‘Yes!’ Jessie grabs his arm and starts pulling him over to the computer. ‘There’s even an address. We can find him.’

That’s all it takes for Buzz to be heading to the computer as purposefully as she’s dragging him, post-it notes still in hand. Every toy in the room is following them, eager for any news of Woody. The address is copied down onto one of Buzz’s post-it notes and Trixie once again calls up a map. It’s not quite as far as the play park and in nearly the opposite direction.

‘Well done, Jessie,’ says Buzz. ‘Without you finding this we’d have gone completely the wrong way. And you, Trixie, of course.’

‘It was Jessie’s idea,’ says Trixie, waving a disclaiming foot. ‘I’ll just print this new map off and we’ll be all set.’

‘Somehow I don’t think it’s gonna be that simple,’ says Slinky.

*

In the warm sheltered darkness of Bonnie’s bedroom with her breathing in the background as even as waves on a shore the toys gather for one last meeting before they take action. Buzz has been working up to saying this all day, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

‘I think I should go alone,’ he says.

‘But, Buzz, it’s dangerous out there!’ says Rex and Buzz appreciates the sentiment all the more from the one who least wants to brave the outside world.

‘One toy could be misplaced. A whole group of us going will be noticed,’ Buzz explains.

‘Well, I’m comin’,’ says Jessie. ‘It’s bad enough thinkin’ of Woody out there all by himself. There’s no way I’m puttin’ up with both of you out there, especially knowin’ you’re not together.’

Bullseye nudges Buzz hard and gives him a look that would be hard for anyone to say no to.

‘I have a map and I’ve done this before,’ says Buzz. ‘It might simply be best-’

‘No,’ Jessie interrupts. ‘Unless you tie me to something I’m gonna follow you, and I bet Bullseye will too. Buzz, I care about Woody just as much as you do. I can’t just stay behind.’

Oddly Buzz’s first reaction is to feel a little betrayed. It’s a ridiculous thing to feel, he’s the one being disloyal and Jessie doesn’t know anyway. No, he tells himself, it’s not disloyal to have a crush you’ve never acted on. He pushes it down the way he always does, reminds himself that Woody is his best friend and not a potential love interest. Back when he was still adjusting to being a toy he got rather good at cutting out the parts of himself that don’t fit the situation, it’s been a long time now since he needed to remind himself that Star Command isn’t waiting for his signal (if you don’t count a hazily remembered detour into demo mode) but the technique of pushing his thoughts into a new shape and holding them there until they stick still remains. Even if his feelings for Woody tend to slide back into their original shape given time.

Jessie is still looking at him with bright green eyes, a few words away from being furious. ‘Very well,’ he says. ‘You’re not giving me much choice. But I think it had better just be us and Bullseye, we’re going to need to travel fast.’

The other toys don’t argue, they know that they can’t keep up with Buzz. Rex looks relieved and guilty about being relieved, but Trixie is patting his side comfortingly.

‘If you’re going to go you’d better go now,’ says Hamm.

‘You’re right, the sooner we go the sooner we’ll be back,’ says Buzz. ‘Slinky, give us a lift down.’

The toys follow them to the window sill, talking as Slinky lowers first Bullseye then Jessie.

‘Take care of yourselves out there,’ says Mrs. Potato Head.

‘AIM me if you need any more maps or stuff,’ calls Trixie.

‘Where are they going to get a computer?’ asks Mr. Potato Head.

‘They could pass an internet cafe,’ says Trixie.

Buzz feels Slinky’s paws wrap around his chest and flips his helmet up with a smile. ‘To infinity and beyond,’ he says, more to himself than the gathered toys. Slinky whips him down through the air and pauses with his front paws still wrapped around him when they hit the ground.

‘You’ll bring him back safe, won’t you?’ he says. ‘Woody has a real knack for finding trouble.’

‘I’ll do everything I can,’ says Buzz.

‘You be careful too,’ Slink adds and lets go, pinging back towards the window where Chuckles is holding his tail.

*

Sheila locks up late, yawning as she turns off the lights. Once she’s gone Woody perches restlessly on the edge of the shelf, wondering whether to wait for Clara or go and look for a computer himself. The other toys are asleep, flopped down together in a way that reminds Woody of the inside of the toybox. The rabbit and the ox are curled up around each other and Woody hopes they haven’t become too attached to one another yet. No one here is likely to be sold together. When Jeremy opens the door Woody slides down and walks over to him and Clara. She looks nervous, hands wringing at the skirt of her dress before she catches herself and smooths it out.

‘What’s wrong?’ Woody whispers, not wanting to disturb the sleeping toys.

‘I need to talk to you,’ she says and there’s something young about her voice, so different from the smooth, practised phrases she’s been using. ‘I’ll show you the computer first.’

‘Okay.’

Woody follows her out of the workshop and into an office. The furniture here is battered with piles of paper stacked on both the desk and the floor. The bin is overflowing with still more paper, this time crumpled into balls. One side of the room is filled with cubby holes, some of them with toys in although most are empty. As they go past Woody can see that these toys are not all plushies, there are baby dolls and toys like him that are partly vinyl. Even a few action figures and toys with electonics are sleeping peacefully in their little rooms. Each cubby hole has a piece of paper taped to the base, but it’s too dark in here for Woody to read them.

‘Who are they?’ he asks, still keeping his voice down.

‘Paying customers,’ says Clara. ‘Children sometimes bring their toys in to be fixed.’

Woody feels a little envious of them, sleeping peacefully in the knowledge that their owners know exactly where to find them.

‘We used to get more of them,’ Clara adds, so quietly Woody wonders if he was meant to hear it.

She leads him to the desk and Jeremy helps them climb from a stack of fliers advertising the prices for repairs onto an old plasic chair and then onto the desk. Clara turns the computer on, the light from the screen makes her look ghostly with her white outfit and pale skin in the dimness of the rest of the room. Then she opens Sheila’s browser history and clicks a link.

‘Ebay?’ says Woody. Then he sees the pictures of himself in front of the box, the pictures Sheila took earlier. No. Oh, no. He has to get out of here.

‘Look at the price,’ says Clara, and Woody does.

‘I - three-hundred-and-forty-five dollars? But I don’t even have my hat!’

‘You knew you were a collectable,’ says Clara. Her voice is soft but accusing, as if he was trying to cheat them by going home.

‘It’s none of your business and it doesn’t make any difference to what I have to do,’ he says. ‘What, are you going to stop me leaving now? Just so your owner can make a bit of extra cash.’

‘So she can save lives,’ says Clara, still quiet but there’s a tremor in her voice now. ‘This place - it’s not doing well. Second hand toys aren’t trusted any more, there have been recalls so no one’s sure they’re safe. Sheila can’t sell anything more technical than a plushie, she was taking a risk even picking you up. And she doesn’t get as many paying customers as she used to either.’

‘Is selling me really going to change that?’ Woody wants it to be sarcastic, but that’s not how it comes out. He’s seen the good this place does, benefitted from Sheila’s skill, and his hand goes unconsciously to the new seam on his leg.

‘If this is just a rough patch then a few hundred dollars could make all the difference. And, even if it’s not enough to keep us open in the long run, Sheila saves toys every day. The sooner we shut down the more toys wind up in the trash.’

Woody looks at the screen, his own face looking back at him with a smile he hadn’t meant even at the time. He remembers the incinerator, the inexorable slide towards oblivion. How many other toys have faced that with no last second reprieve? How many less have faced it because of this place?

‘At that price it wouldn’t even be a kid buying me,’ he says, almost pleadingly. Life behind glass, alone in a museum never touched except to be moved or restored. Or on some collector’s shelf, or in storage like Jessie had been. Jessie, he thinks, and Buzz, his friends. He still misses Andy, still misses Bo, he can’t bear to miss them as well. It’s not really about Bonnie, he feels some loyalty to her but he doesn’t love her yet. Given time, though, he thinks he will and he’d like the chance to find out.

‘What about you, aren’t you older than me?’ he asks, grasping at the idea as it occurs to him.

Clara leans forward into the light of the screen and pushes her hair back, showing a crazy spider web of cracks over her ear. ‘Sheila’s sister dropped me when she was six and Sheila was twelve. Sheila figured out how to mend me all by herself. But I’m not saleable. If I was rarer, perhaps, but German bisque dolls aren’t in short supply. I don’t have my original hair either.’ She pauses, takes a deep breath, and resumes. When she does she sounds younger again and less accusing. ‘Please. I know you want to go home. If anything seperated me from Sheila I’d have a hard time thinking of anything besides getting back to her. But there are worse things than being in a museum.’

There are, there’s fire and pain and despair as you realise that no matter how much you fight you’re only delaying the inevitable by seconds. Woody wants to go home, wants to see his friends, to play checkers with Slinky and find out if Jessie can get Buzz to dance again. But he doesn’t want any other toy to face that inferno. Most of all he doesn’t want to be the one who turns and walks away leaving others to die when there’s something he can do to save them.

Maybe Bonnie won’t miss him that much anyway. She hasn’t had him for very long.

‘All right,’ he says and this time he’s quiet because he can’t talk louder around the lump in his throat.

Clara puts her hand on his shoulder. ‘You’ll stay?’

‘Yes.’ Woody stands up, fighting for composure. ‘I guess you don’t need to bother with the map.’

‘I’m sorry,’ says Clara.

And Woody doesn’t answer because it’s not her fault and she doesn’t deserve any of the anger or sarcasm trying to make its way onto his tongue. Instead he drops back down onto the pile of fliers and is surprised to find Jeremy still standing there.

‘Mind showing me back to the workshop?’ he asks the stork and Jeremy nods, pacing away in front of him with floppy strides.

*

Jessie walks with her arm slung over Bullseye’s back, boots kicking up dust from the sidewalk as she drags them. The toys’ shadows shrink under them and then throw themselves long with every streetlight they pass. Jessie’s face is striped by the streetlights too, sunset orange contrasting with the deep purple shadow of her hat. Buzz hates to see her this tired, leaning on Bullseye to keep from stumbling, when she normally has more go than the energizer bunny. Bullseye, too, is tiring, walking with his head low and his hooves barely lifting. They’ve been walking all night, but Buzz knows how much harder travelling will be in daylight and he’s reluctant to let them rest.

‘We’ll rest at dawn,’ he says, walking along beside her, eyes asking if she can keep going until then.

Jessie nods wearily. ‘You said that already.’ She blinks, long and slow, then forces her eyes open with a smile. ‘Y’know, I bet real cowgirls did things like this all the time.’

‘Probably,’ says Buzz.

‘Wonder if they had to rescue stupid cowboys that got themselves in trouble,’ she adds.

‘Every sheriff needs backup, right?’ says Buzz.

‘You got it.’ Jessie interrupts herself with a yawn. ‘Road ahead,’ she adds. ‘You still up to this, Bullseye?’

Bullseye lifts his head and nods, tail wagging slowly. Jessie hugs him and then swings onto his back before reaching down to pull Buzz up behind her. It’s a practised motion, they’ve been doing this all night, but Buzz still likes the excuse to put his arms around her soft body without embarrassment. Jessie takes charge when it comes to this part, looking both ways and then setting Bullseye off with a dig of her heels. But perhaps weariness made her miss something, or maybe it’s Bullseye not moving as fast as he had earlier, but they’re only halfway across when the sound of an engine seems to fill the world. Buzz’s vision starts to fill with the grainy yellow glow of headlights and he wonders how long they’ve got before instinct kicks in and sends them immobile.

‘Keep going,’ he calls urgently.

‘Bullseye! Giddy-up!’ calls Jessie, and Bullseye kicks into high gear as sodium yellow floods the road. Brakes squeal and the car slews sideways, a tire hitting Bullseye in the side and sending Buzz flying. He hits the curb and clambers to his feet, thankful he’s been keeping his helmet up. The sound of a car door opening makes Buzz crouch down into the shadows as much as possible before going still. Bullseye and Jessie are nowhere to be seen.

‘What was that?’ asks a woman’s voice, sounding shaken.

Another, this one closer and accompanied by a shadow passing over him. ‘It looked like some sort of animal. I thought I hit it.’

‘A cat?’

‘No…it looked…I’m not sure. I didn’t see it clearly. But not a cat.’

‘Never mind. If it’s not there you didn’t hit it. Let’s get home.’

‘Okay. Sorry about that.’

The car door closes again and Buzz watches as the car drives away. Jessie and Bullseye stand up in its wake, they must have been hiding underneath it and Buzz shudders to think of what might have happened if it had reversed before driving off.

‘Jessie!’ he calls, and wishes he was confident enough to run over and hug her.

Jessie runs over to him instead, cheerfully flinging her arms around him. ‘That was too darn close,’ she says. ‘I think Bullseye’s gotta rest.’

Bullseye whimpers apologetically and Buzz places a hand between his drooping ears. ‘It’s not your fault. I’ve been pushing you too hard. Let’s find a safe place to recuperate.’

They find a front garden, gravel with neatly spaced plants. But one of the plants is elephant grass and under its fountain of leaves they’re as hidden from view as it’s possible to get. Bullseye lies down on the soil and falls asleep within a single breath. Buzz sits down and puts his helmet back, surprised when Jessie climbs into his lap and curls up.

‘I thought the wheel hit you,’ she says.

‘No. It just knocked me loose. I was fine,’ he tells her, daring to stroke her yarn hair.

‘Mmmm,’ she murmurs sleepily. She glances across at Bullseye. ‘Poor Bullseye. I shoulda’ realised he was more tired than he was letting on.’

‘He’s very loyal,’ says Buzz.

‘He was designed to be Woody’s horse,’ replies Jessie.

‘And you?’

‘What about me?’

‘Were you designed to be his sidekick?’

‘His _friend_ ,’ answers Jessie. ‘I guess so.’ She closes her eyes and continues talking sleepily. ‘In a way it was weird meetin’ him. I’d seen the show so many times and we’d been waiting for him so long - I freaked him out actually.’ She laughs. ‘Got a bit excited about him finally being there. But I was expectin’ him to be just like he was on the show.’

‘And he isn’t?’

Jessie shakes her head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I’m not that much like Jessie either. Bet she wasn’t scared of the dark, or worried about being abandoned. Or in love with a Space Ranger either.’

‘Well, I’m, uh, definitely grateful for the last part.’ Buzz hesitates and then wraps his arms tightly around her, feeling how soft she is against him. ‘Why don’t you get some sleep?’

‘Yeah,’ she says. Then she opens her eyes long enough to kiss him on the cheek. ‘G’night, Buzz.’

*

Jessie walks through the grainy black and white town. There’s no one here and she has strings on her hands and knees, strings which tighten and loosen as she walks so that she’s not sure whether they are moving with her or whether she’s being moved by them. Somehow, though, it doesn’t feel strange. She walks down the street as if she’s done it all her life and pushes open the doors to the saloon.

Woody’s sitting at the bar with an empty glass in front of him, in black and white as well, and he turns when she comes in, standing with a motion far too swift as though he’d been pulled up by the strings attached to him. Anxiety floods his face, eyes widening as his eyebrows come together in a frown.

‘Jess? What are you doing here?’ he asks.

Jessie walks over to him, tilts her head to one side. ‘Where should I be?’

Woody puts one hand on her shoulder and turns her around. There’s a window, image slightly distorted around the edges, and through it Jessie can see Bonnie watching her with the other toys grouped around her the way Andy used to put them when he watched movies. Buzz is by her knee, half hidden by a fold in the sundress she’s wearing. Jessie realises that they’re on the other side of a television screen.

‘Out there,’ says Woody.

Jessie looks back at him, he’s watching her with a resigned look too similar to the way he’d watched Andy drive away. ‘What about you?’ she asks.

He tips his hat with one hand, smiling. ‘This town needs a sheriff, little lady.’

Jessie lunges forward and grabs him by the shoulders, shaking him hard. ‘Knock it off, Woody. You know as well as I do that this isn’t real.’

The strings don’t immediately pull him back up again when she lets go, for a moment he’s half tipped back and sagging in mid-air. ‘I know, Jess,’ he says quietly. ‘I’m sorry.’

He walks away from her behind the bar and there’s a door there but it’s painted on the cardboard backdrop. Woody puts his hand on the flat drawn knob and Jessie hears it turn anyway, sees the door start to swing open, and she suddenly knows that if Woody steps through that door she won’t be seeing him again. She jumps over the bar, strings lifting her into a strangely graceful leap and lands next to him.

‘Don’t walk away from me,’ she says, angry and pleading all at once.

He looks at her, then over her shoulder, and she knows he’s watching Bonnie and the gathered toys. ‘Go back,’ he says.

‘I’m not letting you go like this. I’ve lost too many people to put up with losin’ you as well!’ Jessie throws her arms around him. It’s awkward, their strings tangle together and they knock the cardboard bar away from them, but as long as Jessie’s holding onto him Woody can’t leave her behind.

‘Jessie,’ he whispers and suddenly they’re kissing, as if they were always meant to. As if it’s all a part of the show, vinyl lips molding together as flexibly as human lips while their floppy limbs are pulled around by strings. Jessie pulls back and looks into Woody’s eyes, always so full of feeling and brimming with tenderness now. Then he suddenly jerks backwards, trying frantically to untangle himself. Jessie looks over her shoulder to see what made him react like that. Buzz is watching them from the shadow of Bonnie’s knee and his expression is utterly betrayed.

‘Buzz!’ Jessie takes a step towards him, pushing the cardboard bar even further out of place. Then she looks back. The door in the wall is open and Woody is nowhere to be seen.

She wakes up gasping with fear, blinking hard as she readjusts to reality. She’s curled up on Buzz’s lap, has been sleeping with her head on his shoulder. And her Space Ranger, despite his best intentions, is as fast asleep as she was a moment ago. Bullseye is asleep too, hooves twitching as he runs through his dreams. Jessie puts her hand on her chest, breathing deeply as if she feels a trap closing on her. Then she shakes it off, dreams can’t hurt her and they have a lot to do today.

She presses a kiss to Buzz’s lips, trying to erase the betrayal of kissing Woody in her dream. ‘Wakey, wakey, Space Ranger. We’ve gotta get ourselves a’ movin’.’

Buzz wakes suddenly, with a snuffling sound that turns into an embarrassed cough. ‘Just resting my eyes,’ he says.

‘Sure you were,’ says Jessie, tugging ineffectually at his shoulders as if she could really pull him to his feet. When he gets up by himself she turns to Bulleye and gives one of his ears a tug. ‘C’mon, Bullseye. Up and at ‘em.’ Bullseye jumps to his feet at once, tail wagging with enthusiasm. ‘Feelin’ better?’ she asks. Bullseye licks her face happily and she giggles. ‘Okay, looks like we’re good to go.’

‘Daytime travelling is more dangerous,’ says Buzz, flipping his helmet up as he speaks. ‘We’ll have to move from cover to cover as quickly as possible.’

Jessie throws him a quick salute but spoils it with a giggle. ‘Roger on that, sir.’

Buzz doesn’t tell her to take it seriously. He knows that she is, really. Instead he nods. ‘I’ll move ahead, you and Bullseye wait for my signal.’

Jessie doesn’t mind him taking the lead, he’s done this before and she hasn’t. She and Bullseye poke their heads out of the elephant grass and wait until Buzz beckons them from under a rosebush in the next garden along.

*


End file.
